101 Thomas Brodie Sangster Imagines

In The Rain

In The Rain

Crap, crap, crap, crap, crap. Rain starts pouring down on my head. I run through the streets of London, trying to find cover. So far I have either found ones that are full of people or ones that are leaking. Yup, this is my life.

This isn’t the first time this happened. No, I’m a pro at finding shelter from the rain now. Well, a really bad pro. I roll my eyes at myself for even thinking about this. I need to focus. Find shelter. I glance up and down the streets. I see people with umbrellas. People flooding into stores and restaurants. I wish I could do that, but I don’t have any money left to spend and they always make you buy something if you’re only hiding from the rain. Argh! Why is this so hard?! I scurry further down the street, watching as people fill up all the spots I had in mind. This is what I hate about London. 1) Too many people 2) Rain. Both of which are getting on my nerves today. Ahh! Focus! Why do I keep losing track of what I need to do. Find shelter. Find shelter. Find shelter. I repeat those words in my head until I finally see an open shelter. I run as fast as I can.

It’s one of those umbrella things they have over entrances to stores or restaurants, but right now it’s my rain shelter. I start to run even faster now. I run and run. Then as I get closer I see a figure in the rain, running towards my spot. I can tell it’s a man. I only hope he’s not a complete whack job or a crazy psychopath.

I reach the small spot and notice the man has too. I glance up at the man, realizing he’s very attractive. I quickly look away, nervously. The man clears his throat and I can just tell he’s looking at me. I glance back up at him. He is looking at me! I give him a quick grin. The man looks down at his feet shyly. I could faintly see a blush cover his face. Then he looks back up at me, rubbing the back of his neck. I couldn’t help, but feel even more attracted to this man. His brown eyes barely visible in the dim lights of downtown London. The man walks closer to me. He gets close. Close enough where I could feel his warm breath dancing on my face. I can see droplets of rain dripping down his forehead and cheeks. The droplets glisten from the moonlight. I feel my hand move up to his face and wipe away the rain drops. When the rain has disappeared off his face, my hand doesn’t move. I try to move it, but my hand won’t move. I just hold his cheek in my palm. I stare into the brown orbs that could melt a heart. I feel my heart liquidising at the moment. The man’s arms snake around my torso, pulling me closer to him. His forehead laying on mine. I could feel the man’s muscular chest against my own. Then out of nowhere I pull his face down to mine, kissing him long and hard. I feel a sensation of warm pump through my blood. A chill runs up my spine and I shiver a bit in his arms. The man must notice because he pulls me even closer, our lips still connected. I pull away for just a moment to take a breath, then he reconnects our lips once more. Then I see a bright flash out of the corner of my eye, then a click. Another flash and another click. We both break the kiss and turn to see more flashes followed by even more clicks. I’m momentarily blinded by the last flash. I take my hand away from the mystery man’s face and rub my eyes, trying to regain my sight. Before I’m able to see again, the man grabs my wrist and pulls me.

“What’s going on?” I whisper scream. I hear footsteps following the man and I.

“It’s the press!” he yells back. His voice is low and he has a thick British accent. Wait, did he say press? Press? Why is the press following us?

“Why are they following us?” I asked.

“I’ll tell you later,” he replies. We run, hand in hand. Finally the man leads me down an alley. He pulls me around a sharp corner and presses me up against the brick wall. He lays flat against me, trying not to be seen. His face is literally an inch away from mine. We listen for footsteps to pass us. When they do, the man backs away from me.

“Sorry about that,” he says. Then he sticks out his hand. “I’m Thomas by the way,” I shake his hand.

“(Y/N),” I tell him. Thomas’ face grows into a smile. His eyes kind of widen and he looks genuinely happy. “What?” I ask, wondering why he’s smiling.

“You have a beautiful name,” Thomas tells me. I blush a bit. Hopefully he didn’t see, since it’s so dark. A smile is plastered on my face.

“Thank you,” I say. Looking down. “So what was all that about?” I asked pointing to the people who had chased us down the street minutes ago.

“Oh, I’m so sorry about that!” Thomas said. Placing his hand on my cheek. I gave him a look that said ‘okay that doesn’t answer my question’. “Well, umm… I’m sort of famous,” he tells me. That’s when it clicks in my brain. Blond hair, brown eyes, very attractive, famous, and British. He’s Thomas Brodie Sangster!

“Wait, you’re Thomas Brodie Sangster!” I announce, maybe a little too loudly. I hear footsteps coming towards us again, getting louder and louder. Thomas grabs my hand again and we run. I would run for the rest of my life with this guy.